


A Mother's Observation

by Tea Party on Ice (A_Conscious_Dreamer)



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon Compliant, Confusion, Emotional Hurt, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship, Rachel Lives, keeping secrets, lots of emotion, mother pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7608595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Conscious_Dreamer/pseuds/Tea%20Party%20on%20Ice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel Phantomhive survives the fire. Broken and desperate, she finally gets her son back after a long, grief filled month. But something is different. Perhaps it’s her Ciel, perhaps the mysterious butler he brought with him. Perhaps both.</p><p>For anyone who has ever wondered what Ciel's parents would have thought at various points of the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mother's Observation

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a little while ago, probably a few months. I hadn't posted it yet because I wanted to add a little more, but I don't think that's going to happen. So, here we go! I edited to the best of my ability, but I'm not perfect so sorry for any mistakes you find. 
> 
> This is a family/hurt-comfort fic written in the form of 21 snapshots. They're in order, so no jumping back and forth in time, though there are time gaps. It's pretty simple to figure out, though (I hope).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't claim any ownership of Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler. Really. I don't even know Japanese.

**1.**

Rachel Phantomhive alternated between many different emotions in the month after the fire. Grief over her loss--she would spend many hours crying, inconsolable. Not even her sister would be able to bring her any comfort at these times. Numbness, the inability to feel anything anymore.

Then there was the expected desperation to find her son. Her baby boy who hadn’t been found in the ruins of her house with her husband, but instead had simply disappeared. Scotland Yard had no leads and no idea where Ciel could possibly be. Had he had been kidnapped or simply run off or had something else had happened? The Queen had put her full support into finding him, but Rachel knew as the month mark drew closer everyone was beginning to give up hope.

Anger was also a reoccurring player, but with no known targets to direct it to, besides the fools failing at finding her son, it mostly passed quickly.

The only other to survive the fire, their butler Tanaka, was one of the few reasons she left the townhouse at all. She would visit him in the hospital as he recovered from his injuries--he was taking much longer the recover than she herself had, considering his age.

Together, he and Angelina led her in directing Vincent’s funeral plans. Rachel didn’t remember the details of that at all. She only remembered wishing with all her heart her little Ciel had been there to wish his father goodbye properly.

**2.**

Rachel was at the townhouse when Ciel came back to her. It was Tanaka that rushed through the doors to tell her, returning from the hospital much too prematurely, but she hadn’t even gotten a chance to chide him before he had breathlessly delivered the news.

She almost collapsed in shock but fought off the impulse as she ran out of the townhouse in a manner completely improper for a lady of her station. She barely paused to grab her coat.

Ciel was sitting on a hospital bed with all the grace of a King and the height of a child when she burst into the room. Already she was crying as she threw herself around his tiny frame. For a long while, that was how she stayed, not able to speak.

Ciel in turn, held her as tight as he could manage, head buried in her neck. It took her a while to notice that despite this, he didn’t cry. Not one tear. When she did, she pulled back to look at his face properly.

It was then that she noticed the bandages over his right eye and her heart dropped. If she hadn’t already been crying, she certainly would have been then, Her beautiful baby's eye—the ones he shared with her—and now he only had one. She should have been thankful that she got her baby back at all—and she was, so very much, more than anything—but seeing how they had damaged him was horrible.

“Oh my baby,” she sobbed, raising a shaking hand to brush the edges of the bandage with a butterfly’s touch. “What did they do to you?”

Ciel didn’t answer the question directly, didn’t smile, didn’t cry, didn’t shy away. “I’m fine, mother,” he said assuredly, a tone so foreign in her babies voice that she blinked down at him in silence as he continued, starting up at her with that dry, blazing single blue eye. “I’m fine, now, don’t cry,” he pleaded, more an order than a plea really.

It was at that moment that Rachel first brushed on the edges of the realisation that the baby she had gotten back—just a ten-year-old, but now so much more—wasn’t the same baby she had thought she’d lost.

**3.**

Sebastian Michaelis was perhaps the strangest butler she had ever encountered. He went through the motions of his duties perfectly, never missing a step, but she heard Ciel yelling at him through the walls of the townhouse—she had come running the first time, so shocked she was, thinking something had happened once again, but no—and quickly deducted the cause of her son’s newly born—and very reoccurring—temper:

The bath was too warm, the tea not prepared correctly, his food tasted strange…Sebastian Michaelis, while very adept, was also still learning the intricacies of what it took to be a butler.

Tanaka had also noticed the same, it seemed, but when she had asked him about it one day after afternoon tea with Ciel and the aforementioned, now head, butler, Tanaka had seemed just as perplexed.

“I offered to guide him, my lady, but it seems the young master is determined to guide Mr Michaelis himself. I’m uncertain of its effectiveness, but he does seem to be learning quickly.”

Yes, he did. As was Ciel. She had interrupted a lesson—French Language—the second day back from the hospital. She had protested (“You have all the time in the world to begin your studies at a later date, you shouldn’t push yourself into it so soon.”) but Ciel was adamant that he learn as much as possible in a short span of time.

It wasn’t difficult for her to deduce his motivation; he wanted to take over the mantle of his father. That horrid title that had gotten her darling killed and her son broken. She couldn’t talk him out of it and it broke her heart.

**4.**

Violin. Language—numerous. Mathematics. Social conventions. Horse riding—at the Middleford estate of course. Fencing.

Those were just a few of the lessons that took her Ciel’s day. He spent tea with her and she watched over his lessons as much as she could—Sebastian was a very knowledgeable tutor it seemed. When Ciel wasn’t engaged in anything else, he was locked in his father's study—missing many important documents, much to his frustration—going over contracts and company finances and productivity reports.

Rachel attempted to help him and take on the job herself, as she hadn’t even thought to do in her grief filled month—but Ciel wanted to do it himself. He was so determined—so frustrated that he found it difficult—and she didn’t know what to do with him anymore. She was loath to push him, least she push him away—she couldn’t lose him again, she couldn’t—but she was just as scared as she was proud of him for the path he was determined to walk.

Little head held high, posture perfect, haunted blue eye unwavering.

Smile she missed nowhere in sight.

**5.**

A week after his return, Ciel insisted on going back to the estate to visit his father’s grave. While she was reluctant to take him back to the scene of their horror, she knew it was just as important for him to have the little closure he could get, wanted him to be able to say goodbye as he hadn’t been allowed at the funeral.

Ciel was silent in the carriage over. Dressed perfectly, no longer in a child’s garb, except for those shorts and other necessary details, looking every bit the little Earl he so aspired to be. He stared out the window into the dreary English weather, expressionless.

Rachel, in turn, stared at him, trying to see her happy little Ciel under the façade of this new baby she loved just as dearly.

In the end, though, Rachel was so grateful she had taken him to the grave site, more grateful that she had given him the time he requested with the tombstone. Far enough not to be detected, but close enough to see him collapse on the ground in front of the stone.

And she cried with him, both in renewed, never ending grief, but also with happiness in the knowledge that Ciel wasn’t as broken as he liked to pretend. Her baby could still cry, could still grieve.

No one noticed Sebastian slipping away. And later, Rachel didn’t notice the small exchange between young master and butler as they passed by the burned husk of their old home back to the carriage.

**6.**

She didn’t rush into his room to comfort him as he awoke screaming in the night anymore. She had done so the first few times, relished in the affection he always showed as he orientated himself again. But once that brief period has passed, she soon found his attentions placed on his butler once more.

He craved the knowledge that she was safe, that they were both alive, craved the motherly affection in those moments, but she very quickly learned that she no longer made him feel protected and safe from his fears.

That was now his butler’s job. She was beginning to suspect that Sebastian Michaelis had a much larger role in her sons return than either of them let on. She wasn’t his shield anymore, Sebastian was. What hurt her most was she had no idea how it had happened.

**7.**

Ciel sprung the news on her at their midday meal the day before, casually, as if it were of no real significance.

“The mansion at the estate has been repaired if you wish to return there.”

Rachel dropped her fork with a loud clang. That was impossible! It had only been a few weeks at the most since she had last seen the burnt husk of her former home.

“Ciel, that’s impossible. I don’t understand.”

Ciel paused in his eating to reassure his mother with a look. Not quite a smile. Rachel was beginning to fear she’d never see him smile again. (Oh, how she both feared and wished she knew what had happened to steal that smile.)

“Sebastian took care of it. Don’t worry, he’s very thorough. He informed me he could take care of it, and so he did. Sebastian does not lie to me.”

Rachel swallowed and nodded, slowly picking up her cutlery once more. “Do you wish to return to the mansion?” she asked quietly.

“Yes. If it does not disturb you, of course.”

And so they would return, then. If her Ciel wanted to live there, then they would.

**8.**

As promised, the mansion was in perfect condition. Ciel didn’t look as surprised at this as she thought he ought to. Whomever Sebastian had gotten to rebuild it had certainly done a very meticulous job; they had even recreated the painting in the staircase!

Sebastian opened the doors first, bowing extravagantly as he waved Ciel through. “Welcome home, young master. You are the Lord of this house now.”

As he marched through without hesitation, she heard Ciel mutter to the butler, “You could have been a little less conspicuous, Sebastian,” in that now familiar moody superior tone of his.

Sebastian merely smiled pleasantly as he waved Rachel through.

“Only the best for you, my lord.”

**9.**

As Ciel had wished, the Queen happily held an official ceremony in which the title of Earl Phantomhive was passed on to her son. Ciel held himself like a man twice his age, looking every much a noble of his title.

Rachel wasn’t certain if she was crying in pride or despair or both.

Sebastian looked on the entire affair with a satisfaction she could almost place in pride. Almost.

The Queen smiled down at her precious boy like a grandmother and a puppet master. Ciel did not quite smile back like he could see through her every thought.

Rachel wouldn’t have immediately denied he couldn't.

**10.**

There were many moments where she considered what her beloved husband would have thought of their son now. What he would have thought about the new and mysterious butler Ciel had brought back from his month disappearance (whether he even would have been missing if Vincent had still been around to stop it), whether he would have caught the people responsible already, what he would have done about Ciel’s change, the secrets he seemed to keep with that butler of his…

She felt so powerless against it all. The changes continued moving forward with all the force of Mother Nature herself. Rachel felt powerless to stop it. Maybe Vincent could have, she couldn’t help but think, over and over when she was alone, which was more and more often these days.

Either way, she’d never get a chance to find out. Vincent wasn’t here anymore and Ciel and Sebastian stood in the centre of the storm, willingly letting it sweep them along.

(She hadn’t yet realised that Sebastian was, in fact, not another leaf in the storm, but part of the wind itself.)

**11.**

She knew the Queen would call on Ciel eventually, really she did, she just hadn’t been prepared for how soon the letter came.

“Someone is smuggling Opium,” Ciel paraphrased, eyes calmly on the letter held in front of him. “Through the ports, it seems. It has somehow gotten to the streets and people are dying. She suspects a unique blend, how troublesome,” he grumbled, placing the letter on the desk.

“Shall we investigate the ports then, young master?” Sebastian asked calmly, as if taking a child on a mission to find opium smugglers wasn’t in any way dangerous.

“No!” she protested, leaping to her feet from the couch near the fireplace. “That’s much too dangerous. There has to be another way. Please, Ciel, what if something happens?”

She didn’t miss the glance Ceil shared with Sebastian. Ciel looked calculating. Sebastian looked faintly amused.

“Don’t worry, mother, Sebastian is more than adept at protecting me. But in any case,” he added, seeing her about to protest once more, “perhaps we will pay Lau a visit first. This is his forte after all.”

It wasn’t really any better, her son dealing with that man in his habitat (not that Vincent had ever brought her along, but that made it all the worse), but she knew it was the best she was going to get.

**12.**

The maid was the first person they hired after the move back to the mansion.

Sebastian had presented the girl one morning when Rachel was reading in Ciel’s (Vincent’s) office while the boy in question went through paperwork. She noticed that he was finding it less and less difficult as time went on, thankfully.

He had introduced the Chinese girl as Mey-Rin, already dressed in a maid’s uniform as she stood awkwardly behind the butler.

As he humbly informed Ciel he had hired a maid to take care of duties around the manor while Sebastian tended to Ciel and his wishes, Ciel eyed the nervous girl before nodding at Sebastian without hesitation.

“Okay. Welcome to the Phantomhive manor, Mey-Rin.”

And that was that. It was at that moment, when her son hired the woman without looking into her background or anything of the sort, that she realised how implicitly Ciel trusted his Sebastian.

**13.**

She wasn’t personally there to witness the end of the case, but she had known Vincent long enough to learn the cues.

The tension had left his shoulders, his forehead. His brows were no longer furrowed, his mouth not grimacing any more than usual. Leaning back in his chair almost casually, cup held perfectly, leisurely, the tilt of his lips said he could almost have been smiling. (Vincent would have been smiling.)

“I take it the situation has been resolved then?”

Ciel took a sip, eyes closing as he savoured the taste. “Of course. It was simple, really. It seems the underworld has begun to feel complacent as a result of recent events. They weren’t making any significant efforts of hiding their tracks. Good for us, I suppose, for now”

She didn’t miss the underlying implication. For now. He was looking and sounding more and more like her dear husband by the day. But still different—not as happy, a tad more apathy in the face of horrors.

She hated to think where he had learned that desensitisation. It certainly wasn’t from his childhood—they had always been very cautious in hiding the truly awful realities from him.

That night, she cried once more. For the childhood her son has lost too soon.

**14.**

Wherever possible, Vincent had preferred turning over criminals to the Queen where he could. Or the Yard, if their crimes were punishable and not secret where the Queen wished. Of course, he killed, it was an unavoidable fact of the job, but he didn’t find joy in it, only necessity. He was an Aristocrat of Evil and he lived up to the name well while still attempting to be a good person in the eyes of God.

She didn’t realise until many cases into Ciel’s Earldom that he and Sebastian had been handling things very differently. He made a habit of keeping those matters far from her, as his father had, much to her frustration. (And Sebastian was so very loyal to his ‘young master’ and wouldn’t tell her anything.)

She had waited for them to arrive back, as she always did. (How could she sleep with her son out there facing the underworld?). This time, however, many hours past midnight went by, until she was pacing by the doors unable to stay still let alone sleep, before the doors opened.

Judging by the look on his face upon seeing her right there waiting, he had expected her to be in bed by this time. Knowing Ciel, it was most probably part of the reason he had come in this late.

The other, of course, being the large and numerous bloodstains on his once perfect clothing.

“Goodness!” she cried out, running the short distance to his position cradled in the butlers arms. This, of course, only served to heighten her fears. (Assumptions.) “What happened to you? Are you alright? Show me where you’re hurt!” she demanded, moving to pull aside his shirt—the victim of a particularly large bloodstain.

Ciel pushed her hand away and attempted (and failed) to twist his expression into something more reassuring. “I’m fine, mother, I promise.”

“But all that blood!” She didn’t know how he was still conscious if he’d bleed that much.

“It’s not mine.” Blue eyes held hers for a moment longer before drifting to the side.

Rachel paused and swallowed in heavy realisation. He was only ten—very nearly eleven. Too young to kill, much too young. (He should be crying, or shocked, or shaken or something! And yet there he was, conformably cradled in Sebastian’s arms, the only evidence the bloodstains and averted eyes.)

“Oh,” she said quietly, all fight drained from her. Licking her lips, she tried to find something more to say. “Was this the person taking the children?”

“Yes. He was a noble, that’s how he had access to that noble girl.” His little face screwed in disgust and fury and other emotions. “He didn’t deserve to live, not after the despicable things he did to them~”

Sebastian shifted Ciel then, quietening Ciel abruptly. He smiled serenely at Rachel, wearing the same expression he did while serving them mid-morning tea.

“The young master is in desperate need of a bath and bed. If you will excuse us, Lady Rachel, we shall take our leave now.” With a bow of the head, he bid her goodnight before carrying Ciel up the stairs.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” Ciel muttered, just before he was out of Rachel’s earshot.

Rachel swallowed as more terrible clues slid into place.

_It’s not mine._

_He didn’t deserve to live, not after…_

_The despicable things he did to them._

**15.**

She first saw the cook when he blew up the kitchen the day he was hired.

With a cigarette between clenched teeth, face and clothes stained with soot, blonde hair blown back with the force of the blast and flame thrower one hand, he was certainly a sight.

He was very sheepishly facing an exasperated Sebastian. Rachel and Ciel had come running at the unexpected noise. Ciel seemed annoyed but content to let Sebastian handle the situation as he stalked back to the office.

“We do not use flame throwers in the kitchen at any point ever in this household, Barldroy. Is that firmly understood?”

The American agreed with sheepish enthusiasm before he was sent back the kitchen, said weapon still clasped firmly. Rachel shook her head in bafflement.

“If he cannot cook, why was he hired?” Rachel queried, more than a little confused. (And why was he still hired?)

Sebastian shot her a knowing smile. “Barldroy, I’m sure you will find, my lady, is already an integral part of the household.”

Rachel was no less confused. Sebastian sure had peculiar hiring habits. First, the maid who couldn’t maid and now the cook who couldn’t cook.

She wondered what Sebastian saw in them. Further, what Ciel saw in Sebastian to be so trusting of his choices.

**16.**

Gathered in the sitting room was her sister, Angelina, Lau and his ‘companion’ (much to her distaste, exposing such an uncovered woman to her son, really), Diedrich, Chlaus, Azzurro Vanel, and a few of her husband's acquaintances that had stayed with Ciel after Vincent’s passing. (Undertaker, of course, was conspicuously absent. That man.)

Angelina was a relatively new addition to the party. Rachel had been loath for her dear sister to be involved in such matters, but the woman had been insistent and Ciel had made quite a convincing argument. Angelina didn’t have a husband or a family any longer, excluding present company, and she was in a very unique position for gathering information. Everyone but Rachel herself called her Madam Red, Ciel included.

That was a new occurrence as well. Before it had always been Aunt Ann, said with a smile, always a smile.

This gathering, her son at the helm, leading them all with a charisma she had seen before on another similar, older face, made up most of the current Aristocrats of Evil (among other names). She had always known her baby was next in line to inherit the title as the sole Phantomhive heir, but that time had seemed so far off nearly a year previous.

Rachel had included herself by force. She may be excluded from helping where it counted, where Ciel faced the most danger, but she would not be pushed out. Not when it was her son leading the charge.

Here in this room, surrounded by plush cushions, a warm fire and equally warm drinks (tea for Ciel, of course), they discussed drugs, murder, kidnappings and all manner of dark subjects. Here, they discussed death and things far worse.

And not once did Ciel loose his calm façade. (She prayed it was simply that, a façade.)

**17.**

The third addition to the hired help was a bald, frightened boy with large turquoise eyes.

Ciel and Sebastian brought him back to the mansion one evening, gave him clothing and announced that he would be the new gardener and that his name was Finnian, Finny for short, a fact that the boy beamed at every time he heard it.

The next morning, when Rachel had questioned where they had found the boy, Ciel’s ambiguous reply was ‘on a case, in the remains of the facility we were sent to investigate.’

No more, no less.

Rachel soon understood why.

He was so very enthusiastic about his new job, but she couldn’t help but notice his fear of actually going out into the garden. Yet every time he did, he looked so happy. And then there was his strength. She doubted anyone would have told her about Finny’s miraculous strength (oh how many things he had broken already, only to immediately begin bawling) if she hadn’t seen it for herself.

Oh, how he cried. All the time over the smallest things. She found herself choosing her words very carefully around the bright boy, as did Ciel and despite all his eye-rolling and sighing and grumbling, so did Sebastian.

It wasn’t Ciel’s smile, not by far, but Rachel was so very happy to have smiles back in the house again regardless (oh, Finny could smile). She may not fully understand why those three had been hired, but she couldn’t deny that they brought a little brightness back into the house that she had been so desperately missing.

**18.**

It was Ciel’s eleventh birthday and every single person in the mansion was excited except for the boy in question.

Of course, Rachel had also spent most of the morning in bed crying, but by mid-morning tea, she’d dried her eyes, made herself presentable and swore to not let on to Ciel what she had spent the morning doing.

Only to find Ciel hidden away in his office as per usual like it was any other day.

Unsurprisingly, he refused to listen to any of her (and Finny, Mey-Rin and Bard’s) suggestions and coaxing at a celebration of any sort. The closest he came was a plentiful chocolate cake with mixed berries and cream (at multiple points throughout the day much to Sebastian’s chagrin).

As equally unsurprising was Elizabeth’s appearance shortly after midday. Rachel found all she could do was watch as the young girl breezed in, ladies maid after her carrying what appeared to be a boutique box and with a quick (loud and enthusiastic) greeting, the girl was bounding past shocked servants up the stairs towards the office.

Oh dear, Ciel would not be happy at all.

**19.**

“He doesn’t smile anymore.”

“I know, dear. But that doesn’t mean he’s not happy. I’m sure seeing you today made him very happy, even if he didn’t show it.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do. He is still Ciel and you are his cousin, his betrothed, after all. How could celebrating his birthday with his family not make him happy?”

“Then I’m glad. Thank you, Aunt Rachel!”

**20.**

It was by accident that Rachel found out Sebastian’s true purpose in hiring the three servants. By all rights, she was supposed to be in bed, hours into a deep sleep, but she had been kept awake by old nightmares once again. Wandering the halls at night felt just as safe as the nightmares really, considering all the memories attached to the mansion in the dead of night, but that was an old, familiar fear by now.

She was on her way to the library, passing by a window when he saw it—a flash of gunfire in the woods, its crack muffled by distance. If she hadn’t been passing the window at the right time, she doubted she would have heard enough of it to pay it any significance.

The old fear, welling below, roared to life upon the sight of it. They were back. Oh, they were back. What would they do—where could they go—they had just gotten their lives back--

“Lady Rachel.”

She must have jumped almost an inch, heart pounding painfully as she spun to face Sebastian behind her, expression twisted in fear she could feel in the painful lines of her face.

“Sebastian,” she breathed, huffing out short, quick breathes, hands clutched in her nightrobes. “Outside, in the trees—there was a flash—a gunshot--”

Sebastian smiled calmly. “Calm yourself, my lady. The matter is being taken care of, I promise. No harm will come to yourself or the young master, I swear it.”

“You don’t understand, they’re right there, just outside—we have to leave!--”

Sebastian placed a hand on her shoulder, gently guiding her away from the window. “I promise, the house is very well protected, you needn’t worry yourself. Bard, Mey-Rin and Finny have it well handled. They’re very good in this particular area, you see, and if a rat somehow, however improbable, slips through them, I will be here.”

She didn’t quite know what to feel at that speech. The three incapable servants were out there, fighting off the would-be intruders? (Was that supposed to reassure her?) Did that mean they had been hired for their skill in this area, not the roles they officially carried out every day? And to further that, Sebastian was their last line of defence in the event they failed? The butler? (Yes, he was extraordinarily skilled, more than even Tanaka, but could he really fight off the calibre of intruder they were facing?)

She wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t. Not entirely.

“Sebastian, perhaps we should call for help? Or leave ourselves. I don’t mean to doubt, really, but I can’t go through that tragedy again.”

The butler sighed. “I wished to not to alarm you with this knowledge, my lady, but I feel you should know that the servants and I have faced quite a few similar situations in the past. Really, this is nothing out of the ordinary. Besides those new enemies threatened by the Phantomhive name, there are old enemies who still wish to finish the job they started.”

She had suspected before, but to know the truth—to know those responsible for killing her husband, taking her son were still trying to destroy their lives further…

Before she could voice her panic once again, Sebastian continued.

“But do not worry, my lady. I swear on my dignity as a Phantomhive butler that no harm will come to the young master. That is, after all, why I am here.”

They arrived at her quarters then and with a bow and a hand crossed over his chest, Sebastian excused himself.

She had heard the phrase many times and it sprung to mind once more with crystal clarity as she watched him disappearing into the darkness of the hall.

_I am simply one hell of a butler._

**21.**

While the servants were busy hunting rats in the mansion, Ciel was busy hunting a rat of his own.

It terrified her still, it always would, that her twelve, going on thirteen, year old was the head of the Evil Aristocrats, but at the same time, that knowledge and subsequent fear was so normal in her life by now she was mostly able to work and think past it.

That was until Azzurro Vanel. She had trusted him. Not as much as she trusted Tanaka, her sister, Chlaus, Diederich and even Sebastian now, but she had trusted him. To think he would betray them…

The situation was made all the worse in that she hadn’t found out until Ciel was returned safe and sound. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had put the pieces together well enough—the gunshot through the window, the ruin in the office—and she had spent the next hour or so pacing once more until the butler and Ciel return safely.

And they had, with Ciel worse for wear. She had been married to Vincent long enough to recognise the injuries for what they were—someone had hit him, perhaps more than once, if the yelp when she squeezed around his middle was an indicator. The servants had bought a generic excuse, were quite happy to—especially Finny who couldn’t stand any news on Ciel being hurt without bursting into tears—but Rachel had demanded the entire story.

The entire story being that Ciel had been kidnapped by Azzurro Vanel in his bid to ‘get rid’ of the Queen’s Watchdog so he could happily indulge in his illegal pursuits—Opium namely. Planning to kill his servants if Ciel didn’t do as he wanted, he had sent the failed shooter. And then, Sebastian had rescued him from their lair and ‘disposed of the rat’.

It can’t have been that simple, but she didn’t ask for details or the entire story. She had long learned to let Ciel and Sebastian to keep their secrets, such as how exactly Sebastian had managed to fight through an organisation without getting so much as a scratch.

And if those secrets made her feel a little left out, well, at least Ciel was alive to have secrets to keep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully I wrote her okay. We don't really see or know all that much about Ciel's parents, but I've always imagined her as a silently, emotionally strong character. Strong enough to stand by her husband, but softer than he is. Very motherly.
> 
> Here, she's a little broken and a very confused and worried. I hope I did that justice--I've never really lost anyone when I was old enough to react properly.


End file.
